


On Merengues and Geometry Homework

by orphan_account



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Getting Together, M/M, Semi Eita is So Done, Semi Eita is also a little shit, Shirabu Kenjirou is a Little Shit, also i don't know how the fuck to tag this is my first fic on here, au where they've never met before this, bordering on crackfic material tbh it's ridiculous, but get this, can you even consider it that, idk how to describe this? - Freeform, ig, rated teen purely because they ~curse~, they make fun of eachother's hair while getting it done lmao, who knows - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:41:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25686736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Semi Eita knew he was a rather short tempered person, if he was being completely honest with himself. Quite a lot of things irritated him: his coworker that constantly bounced around and turned everything into a song, the new barista at his favorite coffee shop, and the way that there were far too few drying machines at the cleaner’s near his house, to name a few. But right now, he felt at peace, mostly. A hairdresser was floating around the chair he was situated in, painting dye into his roots and placing foil on the strands afterwards, careful to leave the tips his natural color per his request.Everything was calm in the world of Semi Eita. His eyes were closed and he was simply enjoying the feeling of not having any responsibilities in that moment.Then he heard a laugh from the chair next to him.
Relationships: Semi Eita/Shirabu Kenjirou
Comments: 4
Kudos: 80





	On Merengues and Geometry Homework

Semi Eita knew he was a rather short tempered person, if he was being completely honest with himself. Quite a lot of things irritated him: his coworker that constantly bounced around and turned everything into a song, the new barista at his favorite coffee shop, and the way that there were far too few drying machines at the cleaner’s near his house, to name a few. But right now, he felt at peace, mostly. A hairdresser was floating around the chair he was situated in, painting dye into his roots and placing foil on the strands afterwards, careful to leave the tips his natural color per his request.

Everything was calm in the world of Semi Eita. His eyes were closed and he was simply enjoying the feeling of not having any responsibilities in that moment.

Then he heard a laugh from the chair next to him.

At first, Eita thought the laugh was somewhat nice, a little teasing with a hint of lightness and he could feel the sugar of the sound coating the outsides of his ears, causing them to burn a bit. His eyes flew open to attempt to locate the source, used the mirror in front of him to look at the reflection of the chair to his left and _oh_.

A man with copper hair and matching eyes, probably a year or two younger than him, sat in his respective chair, posture alarmingly straight. If this was any other situation, Eita might have thought he was attractive. But not in this case.

Because the man was laughing at _him_.

Eita rolled his eyes at the sight and cleared his throat. “Were you laughing at me?” he accused sharply, his tone piercing and harsh. The hairdresser, who seemed like a pretty timid person, looked on with wide eyes.

“What? Your hair is ridiculous. Why the tips?” he responded, looking over with a lazy, slightly amused expression.

Usually, Eita would’ve let it slide. Well, that’s what he’d like to believe, and that’s what he was going to do initially, as he took a deep breath in through his nose and exhaled through his mouth, eyes closed to hang on to any bit of calm he had been feeling before. But when his eyes fluttered open yet again, he saw that another hairdresser was starting to do the other man’s hair, cutting the bangs that hung over his forehead in a sharp angle, stopping slightly to the right of the middle of his hair and snipping back downwards. Eita had never been a great student, but the word obtuse angle flashed through his mind before he opened his mouth to talk again.

“Excuse me? Have you seen your own bangs?” he asked, voice filled with disdain.

The other’s back straightened impossibly further, and Eita couldn’t help but laugh a bit at how the sharp angle of his reflected his newly cut bangs. “I have, I don’t see anything wrong with them,” he stated firmly.

The (mostly) silver haired man snorted, actually snorted, at this assessment. “Okay then, there’s nothing wrong with my hair either,” he said, trying to hold back his laughter for the sake of the woman looking at the bickering pair with concern and for his own personal safety.

“Why leave the tips?” he shot back.

“Why not cut your bangs straight across?” The other looked at his reflection in the mirror for a second, considering his appearance it seemed.

“They are straight, asshole.”

Eita’s mouth slightly parted with disbelief. “Are you fucking kidding? I meant straight across.”

“Okay, at least I don’t look like a slightly burnt meringue-” he replied, voice hinting at a bit of amusement.

“At least my hair doesn’t look like my geometry homework from when I was in school,” Semi laughed in a mocking manner as the hairdresser attending to his roots put the last piece of foil on.

“You could never pull this off-” he started, before getting cut off by his respective hair dresser’s hand on his shoulder.

“Shirabu-san, maybe you should lay off.”

Shirabu, that was his name. The name reminded him of another word, though Eita wasn’t exactly sure what. After taking a moment to think, his mind produced the word caribou, and the thought of the odd angles of a caribou’s antlers crossed his mind, and he found himself laughing once again.

The man Eita now knew as Shirabu scoffed at the sound of laughter near him, and though he wasn’t sure, he thought he might have heard the tiniest _asshole_ under Shirabu’s breath, but he couldn’t be sure. In his best attempt at subtlety, Eita scanned the man in the chair. He would be lying if he thought that he wasn’t slightly pretty, and though he wouldn’t admit it out loud, his hair did, in fact, suit him. His eyes were surprisingly soft considering his attitude, and looked even more calm when he wasn’t insulting Eita’s hair.

Shirabu’s hairdresser was doing the finishing touches on the back of his head as Eita’s started to pull the foil away from his scalp and he was brought to the sink to get the dye washed away. He allowed himself to be guided towards the larger chair and relaxed as much as he could into the dip in the sink where his neck went, and felt warm water start to flow through his hair. The feeling was comfortable, and he allowed himself to loosen slightly.

Suddenly, there was a light tapping on his shoulder, and his eyes shot open to find the figure of Shirabu standing in front of him and wow, he did not like the feeling of seeming shorter than him. Eita looked up expectantly at him.

“I’m sorry for insulting your hair,” he said, voice monotone but still sounding the tiniest bit apologetic.

“It’s okay,” he muttered.

“Can I-” he started, just to be cut off by a particularly loud hiss from the sink.

“Can we talk when my head isn’t in a sink?” Eita snapped slightly, which he felt partially bad for, but Shirabu was the one that had started the conversation while he was having water sprayed through his hair. Impatiently, he waited for the wash to be over, and once he was done and his hair was blow-dried he shot a glance towards Shirabu, who sat in the lobby, his look rivaling the feeling of restlessness Eita felt as well.

At once, he was making his way toward Eita, who was also walking in his direction, but by pure coincidence, really, as he simply needed to pay. He looked down at Shirabu, who was looking more bored and impatient by the second.

“So what did you need to say?” he asked, cocking his head at Shirabu.

“I was wondering,” he said, stopped abruptly, took a deep breath, then continued. “If I could take you out to dinner. Y’know, to apologize for insulting your hair and all that.”

“If you wanted to ask me out on a date, you could’ve just said it more directly,” Eita teased, a smirk starting to form.

“It’s not like I didn’t notice your staring, asshole,” Shirabu responded smugly, and Eita’s smirk dropped into one of shock. “I also don’t even know your name, so unless you want me to continue to exclusively call you asshole, you should tell me.”

“Semi Eita, now please let me go pay.”

“Right…” he responded, somewhat awkwardly, before his face turned to realization. “Wait, you never asked for my name!”

“Shirabu, right? Heard your hairdresser say it,” Eita muttered, before handing over his card to the woman at the register. “Now where are you going to take me?”

Semi Eita’s life was going to get a little bit more interesting. Not that he was complaining.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading my first ever fic here!! I hope it wasn't too dissapointing.


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